My mind is an almost-lifeless waste
All around is evidence,
Barely-there impressions
Of feelings only just forgotten

They tell me that I will be happy soon
That excitement will bloom lush and fruitful
That passion will light these silent hills
But when I look across these cracked and mournful plains
When the rains shower me with bitter disappointment
When the winds freeze my interest into apathy
I think,
Surely not